


falling all at once (eleven snapshots)

by mypedia



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 10:20:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4133862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mypedia/pseuds/mypedia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“So? You need to get laid.” Natasha stretches, propping her feet up on his lap, throws a berry up and catches it effortlessly in her mouth. “On that note, so do I.”</i>
</p>
<p>  <i>“Who doesn’t?” Steve asks rhetorically, and Sam raises his beer.</i></p>
<p>  <i>“Amen to that.”</i></p>
<p>Or: eleven moments in the lives of Steve, Sam and Natasha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	falling all at once (eleven snapshots)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Romanoff mini bang! Accompanying this is an amazing fanmix by Tumblr user jurassicowens which you can listen to here: http://jurassicowens.tumblr.com/post/121593113265/stop-me-natalia-kills-crystals-of-monsters

1.

They’re sprawled on the couch in Fury’s quickly-provided safe-house, which turned out to be a hotel staffed and inhabited by SHIELD agents- the ones who he could ascertain really are SHIELD, anyway. Natasha’s perched on the back-rest, her feet next to Steve, whose arm is thrown nonchalantly behind Sam’s back, across the sofa. The table is heavy with the weight of a cheesecake, wine, various dinner plates, and a bowl of mixed berries and nuts that Natasha had insisted on ordering from room service. 

“Here’s to us!” Sam raises his beer, seeing Steve nod in agreement. “Saved the world, and didn’t kill anyone in the process.”

They each drink, and then Natasha murmurs, “We really need to get your stealth skills up to par, Cap. Remind me.”

“Hey, I saved your life,” Steve shoots back.

“I _let_ you save my life,” Natasha deadpans, “in an effort to right the balance. It was a pity-move.”

Steve grabs her calves and pulls down sharply, sending her falling in a heap onto the seat beside him. “Sure, Romanoff. You keep telling yourself you’re not the weak link in this partnership.” He deftly blocks Sam’s attempt to steal his dessert, then raises an eyebrow smugly at Natasha as if to say _See?_.

Natasha pushes herself up, onto the arm-rest this time, rather than the back of the couch. “Right,” she says, “I keep forgetting… with great age comes great wisdom, all that.”

When Sam guffaws, Steve shoots him an incredulous look. “If we’re going that way, your 3-mile time was _pulverized_ by a senior citizen”, - “He’s got you there,” Natasha says- “And anyways, I’m not that bad.”

Her toes dig into his thigh, and she says indignantly, “You put Fury’s top secret hard-drive in a _vending machine!_ ”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“C’mon, man, even I could have told you that was a bad idea,” Sam says, swiping some of Steve’s cheesecake while he’s distracted. 

“Nobody took it,” Steve points out like that changes everything, and Natasha throws an almond at his head.

“ _I_ took it.”

He shakes his head ruefully. “I should think very closely before I say you don’t count, shouldn’t I?”

She smile back widely. “You’re learning.”

“Well done on the handling of the info-dump, by the way,” Sam says. Natasha tenses almost imperceptibly, so he continues with a degree of wariness, “Those politicians didn’t know what hit them.”

She relaxes. “Do they ever?”

He shrugs, chuckling. “I don’t know, but what I do know is that you’re the latest It girl.”

“The what now?” Steve asks instantly, a Cheshire-cat grin forming on his face. 

“Yeah, dude, you didn’t know?” Sam slips his phone out of his pocket, quickly types in a search and shows it to Steve, who immediately bursts out laughing. 

“The Black Widow arm work-out? Steal Her Style: Agent edition? This is _gold._ ”

Natasha’s foot kicks out and hits him in the knee, and he groans and swats her away. She stretches forward and snatches the phone from his hand in one smooth motion, scrolling through with an expression of steadily-growing disbelief. 

“That’s wrong. They’ll throw their back out doing that. And my clothes aren’t even from that store.” She continues swiping with her little finger, taking intermittent sips of wine. “Look, they like my hair. Oh, and my shoes… Wait. Wait. This one thinks I’m dating _Stark._ ” She shakes her head, disgusted again. “You’d think with everything else, they’d be focused on other things.”

“That’s how the world works.” Sam holds out his hand, palm up, waiting until she deposits it, frowning. “Don’t worry, your fifteen minutes will be up soon when they have something else to focus on.”

She sits up straighter. “True. 4th of July’s coming up. Which reminds me, we need to make plans.”

When Steve goes to pour more wine into his glass, Natasha seizes it from the table before he can get to it and takes a gulp straight from the bottle. 

“You’re Russian,” Steve grabs the bottle back from her and good-naturedly shoves her away, “Won’t it give you an aneurysm to celebrate our Independence Day?”

She elbows him back. “Maybe,” she concedes. “But it’s not just _America’s_ birthday.”

Sam doesn’t understand at first, but then his eyes narrow accusingly as he follows her gaze to Steve. “Your birthday is July 4th?”

“What, have you been living under a rock for the last seventy-odd years?” Natasha gives her trade-mark half-smirk. “Come on, he has his own museum.” As an afterthought, while Sam pulls out his phone to verify the factoid: “I’ve even cased it.”

“Damn.” Sam lets out a low whistle as he confirms the birth date, looking torn between amusement and indignation, finally settling on the latter. “Okay, see, that’s just pushing it. The whole cookie-cutter American boy scout thing you got going on is a little much for me. I’m out.”

Natasha pops a blueberry into her mouth. “Did you know he has star-spangled boxers?”

“ _Thanks_ , Nat.”

“What? You _do_.”

“You really do?” Sam snorts into his wine glass. “Now those I would like to see.” It’s Steve’s turn to choke on his drink. To his credit, he does so with grace and recovers almost instantly, causing Sam to roll his eyes. Natasha’s sitting up straighter, eyes flitting between the two of them with obvious interest at the sudden turn in conversation. “Not necessarily _on_ you.”

“On the floor?” Natasha asks, smiling widely. 

Sam blinks, then gets it. “Jesus, Natasha, no. On- In my…” He struggles to say something that can’t be turned into innuendo, then gives up. “I’d like to see a picture.”

“Good choice. Steve has to learn about sexting somehow.”

“I know what sexting is,” Steve protests, at the same time as Sam snorts.

Natasha isn’t even fazed, and the other two are suddenly reminded of why she’s so good at her job. “That’s alright, he can teach you other things.”

“Okay, you,” Sam points to her, “need to go sit in the corner very soon.”

“How about now,” Steve suggests.

She shrugs lazily. “Alright, I guess… If you two need your privacy.”

Sam groans and lets his head falls on to the arm-rest. “You’re a lost cause.”

Steve chuckles briefly. “You see what I’ve had to deal with the last two years?”

“Man, I don’t know how you do it.” Sam raises his hands in mock sympathy. “Girl’s got problems. She’s obsessed with your love life.” Both men duck as they’re bombarded with a spattering of almonds. Steve catches one in his mouth and spits it back at her, grinning when it lands in her hair.

“Really mature,” Natasha mutters darkly, disentangling it. “Both of you, so funny.”

“It’s not like you _haven’t_ been trying to set me up with anything that moves,” Steve points out. “It’s almost like you’re _projecting._ ” The last word is said in an obnoxious tone reminiscent of the SHIELD psychologist.

“So? You need to get laid.” She stretches, propping her feet up on his lap, throws a berry up and catches it effortlessly in her mouth. “On that note, so do I.”

“Who doesn’t?” Steve asks rhetorically, and Sam raises his beer. 

“Amen to that.”

There’s a moment of silence when they all clink together their various drinks and take a long swig. 

“Seems we’re in _quite_ the conundrum,” Natasha says then, her tone _almost_ mocking.

“Nice,” Sam deflects after a pregnant pause when Steve doesn’t say anything. “Cracking open the vocab books, I see.”

“I try.”

Steve’s forehead is wrinkled. “Are you actually suggesting or…?” He trails off.

She flicks a crumb off her dark jeans. “I’m just pointing out that a solution exists. Do with that what you will.”

Scoffing, Sam gives her a look, and then faces Steve. “Hypothetically,” he begins, “if this was a thing we were going to do, would you be into it?” Natasha’s listening attentively, interest piqued further now that a threesome is looking to be a real possibility.

Steve rolls his eyes. “If you’re trying to ask if I’m bisexual, yes.”

“What?” Natasha’s eyebrows curve up. “You should have told me. It would’ve doubled the potential date pool, for one.”

“As far as convincing me to have told you, that’s probably the worst possible thing to say.” 

She shoots him a glare and then asks Sam: “What about you?”

“I mean, look. If you two are down, I’m down. Whatever you guys wanna do, however. Uh, within reason,” he adds after a second of thought. 

Natasha’s face twists into an exaggerated frown of disappointment. “And here I was about to break out the whips and chains.”

Sam’s eyes widen dramatically. “Whoa, when did I say I would be opposed to that? Because let me just clear the air- I am 100% okay with that.”

She laughs briefly, then returns to the previous topic. “Hardcore BDSM aside… who’s willing?”

Steve hesitates. Sam waits. Natasha sips her wine, watching closely. Then: “I’m in if both of you are in.”

Sam raises his eyebrows, trying not to look as taken aback as he feels. “Did Captain goddamn America just casually inform me he’s down to fuck?”

Natasha reaches over Steve and plucks the beer can out of Sam’s hand. “He did. Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Sam makes a face. “Excuse me, his mouth is exactly where I want to look-” While he’s speaking, Steve’s eyes go from hesitant to amused, and before he’s finished Steve’s lips are on his, gentle and slow. After a beat, Sam kisses back, just as softly, his hand trailing up Steve’s muscled back.

A few moments- or was it minutes? Neither is sure- later, they’re broken apart by a small body in between them- Natasha. She grins lazily up at them both. “Did you forget about me already?”

“Not on your life, gorgeous,” Sam retorts, and she lets out a throaty chuckle before turning around to straddle him on the couch. Natasha’s body is warm over his lap, and he’s about lean in for a kiss when he pulls back abruptly. “Wait. Wait. Before I have what I’m sure will be mind-blowing sex with two emotionally-constipated SHIELD agents-”

_“Soldier.”_

“ _Ex_ -SHIELD agent.”

“- is that what this is, friends with benefits? Because earlier you said…” Immediately, Natasha stills, and she’s about to move off, but his palm on her back stops her.

“Wrong question to ask, Sam,” Steve says wryly, although he’s smiling, tension only evident in the set of his shoulders.

“From your reactions, I think it was probably more than right.” Sam meets Natasha’s eyes. “Natasha?”

She pauses. “I don’t do relationships,” she says finally. 

“What does that mean?” Steve asks, more confused about the blanket statement than demanding.

She sighs, rubbing her forehead briefly. “I’ve only been in one serious relationship. Don’t want a repeat. If that’s what this is…”

“It’s not,” Sam says. “Not if either of you don’t want it to be.”

“Fuck buddies,” Natasha says firmly, and Steve inclines his head in agreement after a short glance at her.

Sam nods. “Clear as day. Now we got the buddies part down, so can we get to the fucking?” 

Natasha’s laugh sends vibrations along his neck. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Later that evening, when they’ve collapsed in a sweaty, naked pile on the bed- elbows flying and blankets tugging for a good ten minutes, because all of them are single and bed hogs- Steve clears his throat.

“Don’t make it weird, Cap,” Natasha orders sleepily, her head nuzzled into the crook of his neck. Sam nods his agreement from his other side.

“I’m not. I’d just like to clarify, what we were talking about earlier? The boxers were a gift.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

=======  
2.  
When Steve slips out of bed the next morning, Natasha wakes immediately, but quickly burrows back into Sam after assessing the situation. 

“Bring me coffee,” she orders Steve in a commanding whisper, her eyebrows narrowed in an attempt to be intimidating.

He rolls his eyes, pushing the covers off her feet on his way to the door, just to be annoying. “Coffee is not breakfast.”

She lets out a huff and slides her feet up, back under the covers. “See if I get you off next time.”

“He doesn’t need you, he’s got me,” Sam interjects at a normal volume, one arm thrown over his face. “Close the damn door, Rogers, or so help me God, neither of you is getting off ever again.”

=======  
3.  
When they’re approved to leave the SHIELD safe-house the day after, they rendezvous at Sam’s, since he’s the only one with a reasonable-looking apartment. 

At first, it’s small things. Extra toothbrushes in the bathroom because Natasha outright refuses to go near either of them if they have morning breath. A box of inconspicuous-looking sex toys delivered to Sam’s front door, because no matter what he wants to believe, their arrangement is purely for pleasure. Natasha’s robe hangs outside the shower. 

Then it grows. Steve’s favorite ginger biscuits take up a permanent spot in the pantry. A hair straightener appears in the bathroom one day, and never leaves. Three pillows lie innocently on the bed.

=======  
4.  
“Hey!” Steve growls. The wooden spoon in his hand whacks against Sam’s knuckles, gently enough to barely string, but hard enough that he turns exaggerated wounded eyes on him.

“Does a person gotta starve around here before they get any food?” he snarks, rubbing his hand.

“Don’t steal my carrots.” They rotate cooking duty, and Steve takes his turn very seriously. ‘Every dish must be fit to win a national title’ seriously.

Natasha enters the kitchen, having followed Sam’s yelp. Casting appraising eyes around the room and finding no threat, she hops onto the counter next to the pile of assorted chopped vegetables Steve’s spent an hour preparing. “What are you making?”

“Nothing, at the rate he’s going.” Sam reaches a cautious hand out, attempting to sneak another carrot using Natasha as cover. “You do realize if we’ve already died of old age by the time you’re done, all your work will be for nothing.”

“Boeuf bourguignon,” Steve answers, ignoring Sam. “And roasted vegetables on the side.”

“Steve, he’s stealing your carrots again,” Natasha says, smirking at Sam, who shoots her a dirty look. 

Steve chuckles, moving to give her a quick kiss, although he keeps the vegetables firmly in his peripheral. “And that’s why you’re my favorite.”

“Feeling the love here,” Sam complains. “At least Animal Planet appreciates me.”

Steve snorts, turning away from Natasha to face Sam- as he does, Natasha groans and thumps her forehead against Steve’s back. 

“For the last time,” she says, “Animal Planet’s special on falcons was not an homage to you.”

“It was implied.” Sam’s tone brooks no argument. “Watch, when we’ve wasted away from hunger, they’ll randomly have a documentary on dead falcons.”

“I’m not taking _that_ long.” Steve’s eyebrows furrow as he notices the clock, a hint of guilt creeping into his cheeks.

Natasha shakes her head. “Yes, you are.”

Sam pulls Steve to him by his wrist, drawing him close so their bodies are touching. “It’s fine. We’ll enjoy the food when it’s done. Just try to hurry up?” His lips brush against Steve’s in a slow, leisurely kiss. 

Steve pulls away first, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “I’d better get back to this.”

“Okay,” Sam says. “Nat and I will be in the living room when you’re done.”

He slips out of the kitchen. Steve turns to the stove, grabbing chunks of vegetables and starting to throw them in the pan.

Outside, Sam holds out his hands, and Natasha nonchalantly pours her stash into his cupped palms. 

“We’re getting good at this,” he remarks casually, munching on a stolen red pepper. 

“Mm.”

=======  
5.  
As it turns out, Steve knows what sexting is, conceptually, but he’s never actually done it before. Sam and Natasha take great pleasure in introducing him to it. Natasha is decidedly less delighted when she receives a dozen pictures of Sam and Steve while in a briefing with Fury.

=======  
6.  
When Sam has nightmares, he wakes in a cold sweat. He tries, but he’s never managed not to wake the other two. 

“Super-soldier hearing enhancements,” Steve murmurs apologetically, his hand rubbing Sam’s back, when the other man brings it up on the tail-end of a panic attack.

“Red Room training.” Natasha shrugs casually, handing him a glass of water.

“Cheating,” Sam insists.

When Natasha’s demons come for her, there are no audible signs. Steve drifts awake in the early hours of the mornings and realizes she’s not there; he pulls Sam up, and they both pad into the living room. She’s on the couch, glassy-eyed and silent.

They enter loudly, to alert her to their presence. Sam slides into the seat next to her; Steve does the same on her other side, the three of them squashed on a couch built for two. 

“Nat?” Sam says quietly. “You want to talk about it?”

She doesn’t answer, so they turn on the TV and watch reruns until light begins to peek through the blinds.

When Steve dreams of the war, and the ice, he can’t bring himself to leave the warmth of the bed. Natasha and Sam raise their heads- one alert, the other still drowsy- the second he tugs at the blanket tangled between her body and Sam’s. Without a word, they maneuver themselves so that Steve’s in the middle, and wrap him snugly in their legs and the blankets. It’s 80 degrees outside, but none of them care.

=======  
7.  
“Whoa!” Sam lets out a yelp as Natasha curves her body around his blows, ending with a strong kick that sends him flying into the mats.

She curls her lip back, wrinkles appearing on her forehead. “Better. I’ll give you a seven.”

“Hell yeah, Steve, did you hear that?” Sam preens. “I’m a _seven._ ”

“Out of twenty.” Natasha circles him, vulturous, while Steve’s laughter is audible from the kitchen. “Come on, get up.”

“You are _cold_ ,” Sam complains, but obediently pushes himself up. 

“No, you’re just terrible at defensive hand-to-hand,” she shoots back.

“What can I say?” He raises his fists, his stance open and steady. “I’m more of a believer in ‘offense is the best defense’. Although it would help if you stayed in one place for a damn second.”

Natasha smiles, predatory. “Where’s the fun in that?”

She twists out of the way of his first punch, bends backwards to avoid the second while still managing to get a kick of her own in, and then blocks the third with her forearm, grabbing his wrist and using the momentum of their combined bodies to throw him forward onto the mat. 

Gasping, he lays on his back on the cool fabric. “There is no way in _hell_ I’ll be able to do that. Steve couldn't do that. Your flexibility is insane.” 

Natasha sits down on the mat beside him, sweat glistening on her skin. “You weren’t complaining about my flexibility last night,” she says, the corners of her mouth tugging up slyly. 

“Nah, doesn’t ring a bell.”

Her tone is outright flirting now. “No? Need a repeat performance?” She rolls onto him, her knees on either side of his thighs. 

He chuckles and grabs her waist. “Hey, if you’re offering…”

She bends down and captures him in a heated kiss; Sam responds eagerly, his hands running down her back. When her tongue pushes into his mouth, he bends his knees and plants his feet on the floor to upend her seat and tip her forward. But just as his hands move to her ass to hitch her closer, she breaks away with a final flick of her tongue on his lower lip. A second later she’s up, back to standing on the mat, her stance wide but her smirk wider.

Sam’s mouth drops open. “You- She just- Did you see that?! Steve!”

“Don’t get me involved!” comes the yell from the kitchen.

Sam pushes himself up. “Oh it’s _on_ , Romanoff.” He begins to circle her. “On like fucking Donkey Kong.”

She flips her hair out of her eyes, her grin large and delighted. “Bring it, Wilson.”

=======  
8.  
Sam buys an extra loveseat because his sofa only seats two, and they get tired of sprawling over each other on movie nights. ‘Pre-sex movies’, Natasha calls them. Steve says she’s delusional, and then refuses to elaborate.

=======  
9.  
“Can you- Man, can you get your girlfriend to stop hiding weapons around the house?” Sam complains to Steve as he retrieves a particularly well-hidden knife from under the couch seat. 

“Oh, so when she’s a pain in the ass, she’s my girlfriend?”

“She’s your girlfriend when her knives are a pain in _my_ ass.” He pauses. “Did you get that? They’re a literal pain in my ass.”

Steve’s eyes are dancing as he extends his hand for the knife. “You’ve done better.”

“Don’t touch my knives!” Natasha commands, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. “And I’m neither of your girlfriends.”

She takes a running jump and flips onto the couch in a move that’s two thirds gymnastics and one third antigravity- “Showoff,” Sam mutters, unimpressed- and swings her legs so they splay across Steve’s lap.

Steve pats her feet with the air of someone relaying important information. “You hurt Sam.”

“Did I?”

“You hurt my favorite part of him, too.” Steve is totally and unashamedly checking out Sam’s ass.

“I’m sorry. Don’t worry though, mine’s almost as good,” Natasha promises.

“That’s true.”

“Keep this up,” Sam grumbles, “and maybe for our one-year anniversary I’ll just get both of y’all an empty box. See how you like me then.”

There’s a beat of silence. 

Then: “One year what?” Natasha asks. Sam’s panicked expression meets Steve’s. They exchange a glance, and then Sam tilts his head as if to say, _might as well._

“One year anniversary,” Steve repeats, pretending to repeat it like he thought she hadn’t heard the first time. “Huh. So soon? I hadn’t realized it was coming up.”

Sam gives a one-armed shrug. “Time flies.” 

Steve stands under the guise of taking the knife from Sam, but they all know it’s really because he can’t stay still when he’s stressed.

Natasha takes a breath, her fingers tapping an irregular rhythm on her leg. “We agreed this wasn’t serious.”

“Nat,” Steve’s voice is dripping with apprehensive amusement, “I really hate to break it to you, but that ship’s already sailed.”

“It’s gone,” Sam agrees. “Left, hit an iceberg, sunk, the whole nine yards. Can’t get it back, no can do.”

Her eyes flit from one to the other, like she’s about to bolt. “I don’t do relationships.”

Sam and Steve exchange a glance; both relaxed, with open body posture, but shoulders tensed and rigid.

“Too late,” Sam says quietly, “You already are.”

She’s in the room, staring at them, and then she’s not. 

The front door slams.

Sam and Steve stand stock-still in the centre of the room, neither making a sound besides their breathing. They both focus on where Natasha left, as if they’re expecting her to pop back into the house any second now.

A minute passes. And then another.

Sam breaks the silence first. “Drama queen.”

Steve barks out a harsh, tired laugh. “No kidding.”

“She could’ve slipped out but she had to slam the thing.”

“I know.”

Neither moves. They stand in the room that suddenly seems too big and too small all at once, eyes trained on the front entrance. 

“Do you think she’ll come back?” Sam asks eventually, when they’ve been looking fixedly at the door long enough that they both had to sit down. 

Steve shrugs. “Who knows, with her. Probably not tonight.” He makes an effort to keep his tone even and careless- they were just fuck buddies, after all; even if he didn’t think so, obviously Natasha did- but it’s belied by the rough edge to his voice. Suddenly, he stands, pulling Sam up along with him. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

They lie in bed, fingertips brushing, the door unlocked for the first time since either can remember. Of course, Natasha could pick any lock if she wanted to get in, but it’s almost as if they think any setback, no matter how small, might change her mind if she decides to return.

She doesn’t.

Nor does she come back the next day.

Or the next.

A week passes, and then ten days. They receive sporadic updates through the grapevine on her various freelance missions for Fury, sent out with Barton now, instead of Steve. 

=========  
10.  
Ten days after Natasha has left, Steve has his head in Sam’s lap as the other man runs his fingers through his hair, massaging softly. 

“I think we need to talk about this,” Sam says cautiously, breaking the quiet. “Us, I mean. Minus her.”

Steve stiffens, but then makes a conscious effort to relax. “That’s probably a good idea.”

“It was always the three of us. If she doesn’t want to do this anymore… With just us, do you want to…?”

Steve nods, his hand reaching up to rub his temple. “I mean, I thought we already were…” He trails off.

“Me too.”

“So we are?”

“Me and you?” Sam clarifies. He thinks. “I guess we are. Or we were.”

Steve lets out a tired sigh. “Are we still?”

“Do you want to be?”

He answers instantly, firmly: “Yes.”

“So do I.” Sam rubs the spot between on Steve’s scalp between his neck and ear that he knows the soldier finds relaxing. “I love you, and I don’t want you to walk out of here as well.”

Steve blinks, and Sam doesn’t realize why, at first, because they’ve never said it, but surely he’s shown it dozens of times before? A slow smile spreads across Steve’s face, and he touches Sam’s arm. “I love you too. And I’d rather not lose you, either.”

They grin at each other like complete fools for a few seconds before Steve looks away, back at the door. “It’s odd though.”

“That’s one way to put it.” Sam blows out a frustrated breath. “It’s fucking weird without her, man.”

“It’s different,” Steve allows. “Not in a good way.”

“Not in a good way,” Sam echoes.

======  
11.  
The door to their bedroom cracks open, the window of yellow light illuminating the room. Steve’s awake a split-second later, his hand already thrown over Sam. As his eyes adjust to the glare, he makes out a shadowy silhouette entering the room.

“Natasha?” Sam asks, slowly.

The figure nods. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Steve replies. “Long time no see.” There’s enough bite behind the words that he can make out her flush, but he extends his hand to her. “C’mere.”

She crosses over the floorboards almost silently. “What’s up, Wilson?”

“Barton kick your ass into gear?”

“Maybe,” she draws out the first syllable. “I kicked it a little myself, too.”

“Did it hurt?” he asks. “Because it should. Just a little. Maybe a lot, I’m not picky.”

She snorts. “Can I come sleep?”

As one, they move apart, leaving a space in the middle of the bed for her to crawl into. She lays there, none of them touching beyond their shoulders brushing against one another’s. 

“So you’re back?” Sam says finally.

“Mm-hm.”

“For how long?” Steve’s words are just a little too hurt to hold the acid he intends.

She rolls onto her side, facing him. “I was gone for thirteen days. Stop being such a baby.”

“We’ve lived together for close to a year, and then you disappeared on us for two weeks!” Steve rubs the bridge of his nose. “I know we were just fucking, but God, Nat.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“You didn’t think we were just fucking.”

“Well, you clarified that pretty quick,” Steve shoots back.

She draws in a deep breath. “Look. I’m just saying, what we agreed- explicitly- was friends with benefits. You can’t blame me for reacting.”

“Emphasis on the _friends_ ,” Sam says quietly. “You just up and left.”

“You were operating on the assumption that we were more than we were.”

“You’re right, but you feel what you feel. And I feel what I feel. Steve feels what he-”

“I get the point, Sam.”

Steve shifts, the bed creaking under his weight. “We didn’t expect anything from you. And I’m sorry if we made you feel we did.”

“You decided we were dating.”

“We developed feelings and thought you felt the same.”

She huffs. “We were fuck buddies, that’s what we-”

“I love you,” Sam interrupts, and there’s a fierce tone in his voice. Natasha’s head snaps up, while Steve just smiles like he can’t hear it enough. “I love both of you assholes, and if it’s not mutual, I don’t give a fuck, but I still do.”

“I love you both too.” Steve looks at Natasha. “That means you too, Nat.”

She digs her arm into his ribs. “I know what _both_ means, fucker.”

“Just making sure.” He elbows her back.

“You don’t have to feel the same,” Sam says. “If you want friends who fuck, we’ll give you that. If it’s too weird for you now, knowing how we feel, just friends is fine too.”

They’re all quiet for a few minutes, staring up at the ceiling. 

“I think… I think I might love you too,” Natasha says eventually. “Both,” she adds, and they can hear her smirk through the darkness. “It’s- That’s why I came back.”

The tension seeps out of the room like liquid. “Just fucking, my ass,” Sam says through a snort, curling his arm around her. “All that arguing?”

“I was defending myself!” But she’s smiling, her body relaxed and boneless. 

“You couldn’t have come back to defend yourself two weeks ago?” Steve demands, his fingers brushing her ribs. 

“I was busy.” A brief hesitation. “Working through some things.”

Sam shakes his head. “What you mean by that is, you just have to make life difficult for us.”

“Just keeping you on your toes.”

“Sure,” Steve scoffs, but his arm tightens around her, his other hand moving to curl into her hair. After a few moments of twisting the copper strands around his fingers, he says: “Sam has something for you, by the way.”

“Damn it, man, you have no sense of timing!”

“Sorry,” Steve says sheepishly. 

The next morning, Sam proudly presents Natasha with a DVD of Animal Planet’s Deadly Spider Special: Black Widow.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, loved it, hated it or have anything at all to say, I'd love to hear it!
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr for more Sam/Steve/Nat flailing (captain-croptop.tumblr.com)


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